The Elder Scrolls: War of the Holds
by Dr.Malcolm112
Summary: Two hundred years after the Dragon Crisis, Skyrim is torn asunder in another Civil War... And an invasion from the south that threatens to destroy the Fatherland. War, love, drama, intrigue, and death await.
1. I

_Hello! This is my redone version of a story I had wrote a few years back and had partially uploaded on my old account "David Demeter". It is a sort of mash-up of elements of George RR Martin's "A Song of Ice and Fire"/HBO's "Game of Thrones" and other such political drama's, but in the world of Elder Scrolls. I hope you like it! Thanks for reading and feel free to leave a review. Constructive criticism is, as always, appreciated._

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 **A Rewriting of "The Elder Scrolls: Civil War"**

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 **It is a time of revolution and tyranny, defiance and resilience, hope and war. Two hundred and fifty years have passed since the death of Ulfric Stormcloak and the destruction of his Rebellion. The Empire, under House Meade of the Imperial City, lost sway over Skyrim some fifty years later, under the great Brunwulf the Northern Wolf, during Brunwulfs Rebellion. But, Brunwulf has now been dead for some one hundred and seventy years, and all of his line now lay in the ground with him. Across the frozen tundra and lush green forests of Skyrim, Jarls make the pilgrimage to Solitude to elect the next High King- but darker forces grow beneath the shroud of peace, and destruction is coming to the Fatherland.**

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 **Part One**

 **The Kingsmoot**

 **The Jarls of Skyrim-**

 **Kyrtis Trevelyan the Second, Jarl of Windhelm-and-Eastmarch**

 **Arren Free, Jarl of Dawnstar-and-The Pale**

 **Jon Snowborn the First, Jarl of Whiterun-and-Whiterun Hold**

 **Decimus Kinzelus, Jarl of Falkreath-and-Falkreath Hold**

 **Irri Silvercrow, Jarl of Morthal-and-Hjaalmarch**

 **Makin Silver-Blood, Jarl of Markarth-and-The Reach**

 **Irgwyn Black-Briar, Jarl of Riften-and-The Rift**

 **Dengeir Free-Winter, Jarl of Winterhold-and-Winterhold Hold**

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 **I, Jarl Decimus Kinzelus of Falkreath, rode forward atop my dark grey, ornery mare, my eyes burning and my breathing hard as the rain fell down harder and harder onto me and my party. Haafingar wasn't known for its hospitable countryside, but then again, neither was Skyrim. My party was a small one; myself, and three Falkreath guardsmen, riding along the cold, stone roads north out of my forested hold, into the capital of the Fatherland, which I'd visited more than once in my life. I was twenty-eight, hardly the youngest Jarl of Skyrim, but far from the oldest, as well. In Skyrim, my father used to tell me, a man is judged not by his age, or his name, but by the strength of his steel, the valor of his heart, and the courage he wields to face his enemy. My father was a good man. More than once, I'd struggled to see myself as even half his worth.**

 **My party came into view of Solitude, the mountain fortress that had served as the High King's seat for thousands of years, since before the days of the Empire, or even the days of Mankind's supremacy. My second-in-command, the gruff, no-nonsense Nord Burren, called to me from his stallion, riding only a few paces behind me.**

 **"We ought to make it to the Blue Palace by nightfall, my Jarl." His voice was rough and weathered, just like the elder warrior's face.**

 **"Aye. Continue the pace, lads." I said back, and heard Burren grunt in response. Burren was a man of few words, but he was easily one of the best warriors in the whole of western Skyrim.**

 **Traveling along the weary, old roads of Haafingar made me think on how I'd arrived at this point in my life. I was the second-born son of the former Jarl of Falkreath, my father, the honorable Marcius Kinzelus, who had served the former High King Argyle, the Northern Wolf's great-grandson. My father was a wise man, with a firm voice and a level-head, which my brother, Regillus, possessed as well. Regillus was always meant to be Jarl, not me; Regillus was a handsome man, with thick black hair, piercing hazel eyes, and a voice as hard as steel or as soft as silk, when he wanted it to be. He was my better in everything; as boys he always learned faster, always ran quicker, always rode harder. The local girls loved him. I had more than my share of consorts as a young lad, but it would always be Regillus who was the envy of every man, and desire of every woman. He made friends fast, and outsmarted enemies even faster. High King Argyle himself bore great love for Regillus, even taking him on as his Thane and most trusted adviser after me and my brother put down the Red Bandit Rebellion in my home Hold, after my father fell ill. I still remembered seeing Regillus riding off to serve Argyle.**

 **That was the last time I ever saw my brother alive.**

 **I was shook from my melancholy recollections by a shout from Burren.**

 **"Riders approaching, my Jarl! They have the Royal Army standard!" His gruff voice shot my gaze forward, where a small party of Royal Army soldiers, clad in their gold-and-bronze armor and white half-helms, was riding towards us, down the mountain road.**

 **"Hail, Jarl Kinzelus!" Shouted the lead rider, a clean-shaven young Nord with dark blond hair and pale blue iris'.**

 **"Hello, friend." I said back, my voice slightly drowned out by the heavy rainfall overhead.**

 **"We are here to escort you back to the city, milord." The lead rider said, his helmet off, resting in the hands of a younger rider, in bright leather armor. I mused the younger lad to be the lead rider's squire.**

 **"We thank you, sir." I said back, a small, weary smile on my face as my party made our way closer to theirs, as they wheeled their horses about, facing back up the road. Together, we began making our way up the mountain. Solitude was growing nearer and nearer, and far below, I spied the large, bustling docks of the city.**

 **"You are the first Jarl to arrive, milord. I'd have thought Jarl Arren Free of Dawnstar to have made it here first, but it seems he had some trouble on the north road." The lead guard said to me, his horse a few feet ahead of my own.**

 **"What manner of trouble?" I asked the armored man, and he turned his head slightly, his eyes locking with my own. The sound of the rain thundering against the helmets of his fellow Royal Army soldiers drowned out much of our words, and so he spoke louder.**

 **"Nothing of any great import, milord. Mostly, twas the weather that has delayed him. It seems winter is setting in in Dawnstar much sooner than here in Haafingar, or even in Eastmarch." The man said, looking forward once more. In the distance, I heard an eagle cry out loudly, and crunching sounded from besides the road, where a rabbit ran from the sound of our horses hooves thundering against the road.**

 **"I'd expect if it is bad in Dawnstar, it will only be worse in Winterhold. Jarl Dengeir will be greatly delayed." I said absentmindedly, and saw the soldier beside me bristle, his hands grasping the reins tighter.**

 **"That won't be a matter, my Jarl." He began. "Jarl Dengeir isn't riding here for the Kingsmoot." He said, his voice quieter again, his eyes distant.**

 **"What? Why?" I asked, angrily. Around my neck, my furs were drenched from the rain, and I could feel the cold winds bury themselves into my bones. It was cold in Falkreath, but it was much colder here, especially under the downpour of rain.**

 **"Jarl Dengeir wished for no part of the politics of power here in Solitude, my Jarl." The soldier began, his dark blonde hair sticking to his forehead. "He seemed most at odds with the idea of a Kingsmoot, and most at odds with the idea of seeing the other Jarls."**

 **I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. "Winterhold has always been a kingdom unto itself," I said, my voice heavy "And Dengeir Free-Winter has always been a man unto himself."**

 **"Indeed, my Jarl. I tried, repeatedly, to change his mind, but he seemed quite set in his ways." The soldier said, tiredly. "With all due respect to Jarl Dengeir, of course." He quickly corrected, causing me to chuckle.**

 **"Fear not for all due respect to Free-Winter, lad. He's a fine warrior, and a better leader than most, but I've never known the man to care much for the weight of words." After a few moments, I sighed and spoke once more. "The other Jarls won't be happy about Dengeir refusing to come."**

 **"Do you think they'll force him to come, my Jarl?" The soldier asked, and I shook my head.**

 **"Doubtless, they'll be more at odds with having to wait for a Kingsmoot, than they will be at him not coming. The Jarls of Skyrim have much in common, albeit much more that differentiate them, but one thing they all see to agree on is the need for immediate action, with whatever problems that arise. They'll have words for him, I'm sure, but ultimately, they'll convene the moot with or without him." I said, looking at the younger man before me. "What's your name, lad?"**

 **"Alecsxandr Jory, milord. Legate of the First Battalion of the Royal Army." He said.**

 **"A legate, eh?" I said. "An impressive title. I've never known the Royal Army to choose their officers poorly. Well met." I said, extending my hand. Gratefully, he took it, and we shook hands.**

 **"Likewise, my Jarl."**

 **Together, our two parties rode into the gates of Solitude, and down the winding roads of the large, walled city, to the doorstep of the beautiful Blue Palace.**


	2. II

_**Like always, reviews are very appreciated. Thanks for reading, hope you're enjoying it!**_

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 **"What do you mean we have a broken axel?" I, Jarl Kyrtis Trevelyan II of Eastmarch breathed out tiredly to the weary looking Nord before me.**

 **"I'm sorry Jarl. It's these damn Haafingar roads; they are meant for civilized travel." He said, his face as muddy and dirty as his clothing.**

 **I sighed, before nodding my head in agreement with him. My party had left Eastmarch a full week before any others, wishing to get an early start to compensate for the distance and size of our group, which consisted of ten Eastmarch guardsmen, two carriages of gold and jewels to donate to the Temple of the Divines at the Blue Palace, and another carriage filled with rations, and myself, astride my horse, a beautiful black beast from Shor's Stone. Ultimately, however, the weather had turned on us, and although originally we had made excellent time originally, we now were chancing not making it for another full day, should my party not be able to repair our repeatedly broken down carriage.**

 **Angrily, I cursed myself mentally; it was foolish to bring such a large dowry, but I felt it only right. My father and I had many differences, and whilst there was no great love between us, one common thing we agreed on was the importance of the Gods, and their place in our great Fatherland. I hadn't been to Solitude for years, and it seemed only right that now, when I returned, I brought with me a great sign of the piety of the Eastmarch people to the Divines.**

 **"Do what you can. Wouldn't want the other Jarls to start without us." I said to the weary Nord before me, as the rain continued pouring down on us.**

 **"Of course, my Jarl." He said, his thick Nordic voice overtaking the sound of the rain. I nodded to him as he walked back to the cart, and turned away, walking down the narrow mountain pass to my own horse. I mounted her, just as my nephew Ysmir, the Captain of the Windhelm Guardsmen and my Thane, approached me atop his stark white mare.**

 **"Uncle." He said, nodding to me. He was twenty, and I was only nine years his senior, but I had raised him more than any other man. His father, my brother Creggan, had died at sea just a few years after his birth, and so he was as much a son to me as he is a brother, and a friend.**

 **"Ysmir." I said back, locking eyes with him.**

 **"This rain looks like it will hold." He said tersely, looking up at the grey skies.**

 **"Don't go making promises of the weather, lad. Skyrim has a funny way of making the weather as unpredictable as any woman." I said, and he smiled, a small chuckle escaping his pale lips.**

 **"The other Jarls won't hold a moot without you, right Uncle?" He asked, and I shook my head.**

 **"They know I'm coming. And they wouldn't risk holding a moot without Eastmarch's presence." It was true. After the Stormcloak Rebellion, which had failed to rally enough support to its cause, Eastmarch was left weak, impoverished, and without sympathy from the other Holds. But when Brunwulf the Good, or the Northern Wolf as he was now known, ascended as Jarl, he changed everything. Soon, the Brunwulf Rebellion began, after the young, foolish Emperor Arro Meade, demanded that the fair lady Mary Hearting of Whiterun marry her, against her will, mind you, and soon, all of our mighty Fatherland was under his banner. Skyrim won its freedom, Mary Harting won her free will, and Eastmarch won its supremacy once more. When I left Windhelm last, I left a mighty, shining, strong and healthy fortress, with food, shelter, and a warm hearth for all... Including the Dark Elves, who I, like the Good King before me, felt deserved the same basic rights of all of Skyrim's Sons. I was far from the only one who felt that way, but I was also far from in the majority, even amongst my own kin.**

 **King Brunwulf was succeeded after his death by his son Brunwulf the Second, or Brun the Younger as he was called, who was succeeded by his nephew Hardyng, who was succeeded by his brother, the last of Brunwulf's line, Argyle the Good, who had passed on into Sovngarde only a few weeks ago.**

 **A Kingsmoot hadn't been called for nearly two hundred and ten years, but now, here I ride, off to Solitude, just as the other Jarls of Skyrim do. I doubted it would be easy, but with any luck, it would be quick. And for all of Skyrim's' sake, we would wisely choose the next King. The Fatherland, and possibly all of Tamriel, depended on it.**

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 **I, Jarl Jon Snowborn I of Whiterun, rode through the gates of Solitude, my twenty Whiterun Guardsmen riding right behind me. The rain had lightened greatly, and as I approached the Blue Palace, to the cheers of the masses within the grand walls of the capital, I said a silent prayer to Talos for that. The downpour had made the pilgrimage to Solitude miserable, but thankfully, we had finally made it.**

 **"Go make a sacrifice at the Temple," I ordered to one of my Guardsmen, who quickly bowed his head and turned, walking in the direction of the grand cathedral.**

 **"Hail Jarl Snowborn!" I heard a voice call, and turned to see a young, blonde headed Nord in shining Royal Army armor approaching me. "I'm Alecsxandr Jory, Legate of the First Battalion, milord." He finished, stopping just before me.**

 **"Well met, brother Nord." I bit out quickly, my furs drenched and my legs aching from the long ride.**

 **"Likewise, milord. If you'd be so kind as to follow me, I'll take you to the Kingsmoot chambers. Jarls Kinzelus and Irgwyn Black-Briar have already arrived." The Legate said. I sighed audibly, my head practically throbbing at the thought of seeing that Imperial shit from Falkreath.**

 **We walked into the beautifully decorated Blue Palace, it's well kept outer walls paling in comparison to the luxurious décor within. My great grandfather, the mighty Torrhenn Snowborn, had fought alongside Brunwulf the Northern Wolf in his Rebellion, providing more men, arms, and armor to the cause than any other Hold. And soon, Talos willing, Clan Snowborn would reign, and I would be elected High King.**

 **I had the right name, the birthright, and I was more respected throughout Skyrim than any other Jarl, of that I had no doubt. I'd fought against the Dark Elves during the Solstheim War, and had saved Argyle's life from a Dark Brotherhood blade. I deserved the crown, and soon, I was sure, it would be mine.**

 **"Right in here, milord." The Legate said, opening a dark wooden door at the end of a narrow hallway, deep within the Blue Palace.** **I stepped into the threshold, and saw two backs turned to me, looking at a long, wide table in the heart of the spacious, stuffy, dimly lit chambers. Two torches rested on each wall, burning low, and nine stone chairs rested around the perimeter of the stone table, which I realized was an engraved map of Skyrim. The two figures turned as I stepped into the chambers, the door closing behind me, and I recognized Jarl Irgwyn, whose dark auburn eyes and light brown hair I hadn't seen for many years, and Jarl Decimus Kinzelus, the upstart from Falkreath, who, unfortunately, I saw much more often.**

 **"My Jarls." I spat out, looking at Decimus. He merely grunted and turned his back once more to me.**

 **"Jarl Snowborn." Irgwyn said respectfully, bowing her head slightly, before she too turned away from me, looking down at the map-table. I walked around the border of it, finding a seat across from the two, who chatted amicably, and sat down. The chair was hardly a comfortable seat, built, or carved rather, in the same style as seats from Markarth, but I paid it little mind, gazing down at the Fatherland.**


	3. III

_**Feel free to drop a review if you've got any questions or comments. Hope you're enjoying it!**_

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 **I, Jarl Decimus Kinzelus, spoke nonchalantly with the Riften Jarl for several peaceful minutes after Snowborn arrived. Irgwyn had arrived just under an hour after I had, early in the morning before Snowborn made it, and the two of us had spoken pleasantly over lunch, before returning to the Kingsmoot chambers. Jarl Irgwyn and I had known each other for several years, after her father, my own father's best friend, had come to my coronation as Jarl. I had met her father, Jarl Erwin many times before then, but I had never met his eldest daughter Irgwyn. She succeeded her father as Jarl after his death two years past, and the two of us had remained friends. She was light of hair, and her dark auburn iris' complimented her hair pleasantly. Her voice was fair, as was her face, and more than once I had considered proposing to her, but had never gone through with it. It wasn't fear that drove my decision against it, but merely a lack of conviction. Marrying for love wasn't a common thing in Skyrim, but absently, I hoped I might be an exception.**

 **One by one, Jarls arrived, and soon, only the Eastmarch Jarl, a famous, or, some might say, infamous, Nord by the name of Kyrtis II of Clan Trevelyan, was the only one to not have arrived. As I expected the Jarls had been angered by the Winterhold Jarl Dengeir's decision to not come, but also as expected, they ultimately decided not to do anything.**

 **"How fares Falkreath, my Jarl?" Jarl Arren of Dawnstar asked, smiling brightly at me as he sat besides me. Jarl Arren was a close friend of Jarl Snowborn's, but he never let Snowborn's own disliking of me prevent the two of us from remaining on good terms.**

 **"It goes on as it always has and always will." I began, stopping to take a drink from my mug of ale. "It's cold at night and foggy during the day, and the woods never seem to stay quiet. But, I would have it no other way." I finished with a smile. He returned it, taking a sip from his wineskin. Jarl Arren was one or two years my junior, with light black hair, bright brown eyes, and darkly tanned skin, despite the near constant overcast of his home. The last time I had saw him was nearing a year ago, when he'd been coroneted, following the death of his great-uncle, Marwan. "And how does Dawnstar fare, milord? I heard winter had already set in."**

 **"You heard true. It's always cold in Dawnstar, but the snows were nearly two feet high just on the roads when I last left. But, we'll survive. We always do, of course." He said, a bright smile still present on his lips. I had great respect for Dawnstar, and for Clan Free. During the Solstheim War, which I was not apart of, staying as regent of Falkreath whilst my father and brother fought, Dawnstar felt the fiercest of the fighting, being razed nearly to the ground by Dark Elf raiders.**

 **"My brother Benjen is acting as regent in my stead." Arren finished, just as Irgwyn took a seat besides me. "Who reigns in Falkreath?"**

 **"My Thane, Mira." I said, running a hand through my short brown hair.**

 **"I've heard of her," Arren said, setting his wineskin, which looked nearly empty, aside, before continuing "My Housecarl Guidry said she was the finest archer in the Fatherland. I've never known that old Orc to be wrong in matters of warfare." He said with a chuckle.**

 **"And he still isn't. I've never seen a finer archer, and she's not to be trifled with with a blade either." I said smiling. Mira Stormbreaker was my Thane and one of my closest friends, as well as my confidant and trusted adviser. She was a Nord, although she hailed from a revered naval family from Cyrodiil. I'd met her shortly after the Solstheim War, which I learned she was a part of. I smiled thinking of my old friend, before Irgwyn spoke up.**

 **"My younger sister is reigning in Riften." A scowl dominated her soft features now.**

 **"I thought you were close with Bethane?" I said, looking at her.**

 **"It's not a matter of sisterly love, milord. It's a matter of her stupidity." She drawled, and Arren chuckled softly. I smiled, before speaking.**

 **"How old is Bethane?" I asked, and Irgwyn answered, her soft eyes locking with my own gaze.**

 **"Two years past twenty. She's a good heart, and my sister, so of course I love her, but as she's grown older she's become arrogant. And her shrill voice launches her opinions about every issue under the sun nonstop." She sighed lightly, before continuing. "Truthfully, I think she believes she would be a better Jarl than I. I don't profess to be any kind of paragon when it comes to leadership, but Bethane is much to brash, and far too careless to be Jarl." I nodded at her.**

 **"I fear where as your heir may not be worthy of the Jarldom, mine would be a much better Jarl than me." Arren joked. "Benjen is young, and perhaps a bit too passive, but I think one day he may be a better leader than me." Arren smiled at his statement, and I smiled at him.**

 **"You've done a fine job by your people, my Jarl. There isn't a man or woman in these chambers who could question your leadership." I said, and Irgwyn nodded at my statement.**

 **"I thank you my friends." Arren said, before Irgwyn asked him a question.**

 **"Is it true you're to be wed soon?" She asked, and Arren shook his head, taking a sip from his wineskin before speaking.**

 **"No. A merchant from Windhelm was trying to make a match between me and his girl, but the lass and I didn't really connect at all." He said, and Irgwyn nodded at him, as I took a drink from my mug. "What of you, my friends? Have either of you become betrothed yet?"**

 **"No," I began "Although Mira pesters me daily about finding a match."**

 **"And you're sure she's not interested?" Arren asked, and something almost like jealousy shone in Irgwyn's eyes for just a moment. I laughed at Arren's statement.**

 **"Quite sure, milord. Mira and me are close friends, but there is nothing close to romantic feelings between us. She's beautiful, far too beautiful for myself." I finished, chuckling. "What of you, Irgwyn?" I asked, and she looked away, filling her mug with summerwine.**

 **"No." She said with finality, and I saw Arren about to continue, before the doors opened, and Jarl Kyrtis stepped in. I'd never met the man personally, but the descriptions of him I'd heard over the years were most true. He was very tall, taller than any other in the chambers, with a shortly cropped beard as black as his shoulder length, well kept hair. His eyes were as green as emeralds, and his face was stern and stoic. He took two steps into the chambers, before he spoke.**

 **"My Jarls, I beg forgiveness for my lateness. The weather didn't seem to want me to arrive." He said, arising a few chuckles, as I heard Jarl Makin Silver-Blood mutter something along the lines of 'fucking Haafingar'.**

 **"Well," Jarl Snowborn began, standing up as the Eastmarch Jarl took a seat opposite Arren from me "Now that we are all, finally, in commune, shall we began?" A few of the Jarls nodded, Arren included, before Trevelyan spoke up.**

 **"Wait, shall we not wait for Free-Winter to arrive?" His deep voice asked, before Snowborn responded.**

 **"It seems the honorable Jarl of Winterhold has decided not to join the Kingsmoot. He wrote a letter to Legate Jory omitting himself from the vote." As soon as the words left Snowborn's throat, Trevelyan looked enraged.**

 **"He cannot do that!" He shouted, "As a Jarl of Skyrim it is his obligation to join the Kingsmoot. He cannot simply decide he wishes not to make the pilgrimage because of the weather!" A few of the other Jarls nodded at him, before I spoke up.**

 **"It wasn't the weather, my Jarl." I began, earning a glare from Snowborn. "Jarl Dengeir has never enjoyed playing the political games of Solitude. In truth, milords and ladies, I am not in the least surprised by his self exile." Irgwyn, who had known Dengeir almost as long as myself, nodded from besides me.**

 **"Jarl Kinzelus, correct?" Trevelyan asked me, stopping Snowborn from speaking up, still standing on the opposite side of the table from me.**

 **"Aye." I said simply, locking eyes with the Jarl of Eastmarch, whom I mused to be around the same age as myself, if not a year my senior.** **Snowborn was the oldest Jarl here, at nearing thirty eight, and Makin, the surly, oft-drunk Silver-Blood patriarch and Jarl from Markarth, was around thirty-five or thirty-six years old, although he looked several years older than that, having a world-weary look about his gruff face. I wasn't sure how old Dengeir was, but he couldn't be any older than his early thirties, if that.**

 **"I knew your brother. He was a good man." Trevelyan said to me, and my gaze remained locked with his as I responded.**

 **"He said the same of your father." My words brought a quick, dark scowl across Trevelyan's face, as I turned back to Snowborn. "Shall we begin?" I asked, and for once, Snowborn and I agreed on something.**

 **"First, let us hold a moment of silence for High King Argyle, may he bear steel with Talos for all eternity." Across the chambers, the Jarls nodded, and we bowed our heads. Nearing a minute later, Snowborn's voice brought us out of our vigil. "Now, let us establish our intentions."**

 **"What do you mean, Snowborn? We all know why we're here. Let us elect a new High King and be done with it." Jarl Makin growled out, a mug of ale firmly clasped in his hand, before Snowborn bit back at the Markarth Jarl.**

 **"We have much more than that to discuss! We need to know if we intend to return to the old ways, or to keep it as Brunwulf established. Will the new High King or Queen's children reign after them, or shall it be as in the old ways, where the Kingsmoot will decide the next monarch?" Snowborn asked, and quickly Trevelyan responded.**

 **"Brunwulfs ways have served Skyrim well for nearing two centuries. We should keep it as he established." All of the Jarls, save for myself and Irgwyn, nodded, and seeing that, Snowborn smugly declared that Brunwulfs ways would remain. I agreed Brunwulfs ways had served Skyrim well, but that was** _ **under Brunwulf and his kin themselves.**_ **I didn't trust hereditary rule in and of itself, and doubted that it would continue serving the Fatherland, but seeing that I was in the minority, I decided against prolonging the Kingsmoot any more than it already would be.**

 **"Now, let us decide who shall serve as the Thane from each Hold to the High King or Queen-"**

 **"For the love of Talos, this can wait!" Jarl Makin shouted, and before Snowborn could bite back at the Markarth Jarl, Trevelyan too spoke up.**

 **"The Thane from each Hold is to be decided by the High King, not for him."**

 **"Or her," Jarl Irri Silvercrow, the Jarl of Morthal, said, earning a grin from Arren besides me.**

 **"Agreed," I spoke up, "Snowborn, let us elect a High King," I looked at Jarl Irri "Or Queen," The Morthal Jarl grinned at me "And then have them choose their new Thanes."**

 **Snowborn glared at me. "Very well. Let us begin."**

 **"I-" Jarl Makin began to say, before Snowborn cut him off.**

 **"I nominate myself, and cast my vote with it."**

 **"I nominate myself as well, and put my vote forward along with it." Trevelyan said. My eyes flicked between the two, who sat directly opposite each other on the table, Snowborn having retaken his seat.**

 **"I vote for Trevelyan." Jarl Makin said gruffly, seated directly next to the Eastmarch Jarl. Trevelyan smiled at the man, who returned the gesture.**

 **"I vote for Snowborn." Arren said from besides me, unsurprisingly.**

 **"I nominate myself, with my vote besides it." Jarl Irri said, her meadowlark voice filling the chambers.**

 **"I vote for Jarl Irri." Jarl Irgwyn said from besides me, which also did not surprise me. The two women had been friends since childhood, and I knew Jarl Irri was a more than capable leader, and was easily the most educated in foreign affairs out of all of us Jarls.**

 **Begrudgingly, I realized I was the deciding vote. My eyes scanned the faces around the table. Jarls Jon I, Irri, and Kyrtis II were all capable leaders, I knew, but I had trouble really, truly putting faith in any of them. They all seemed foreign to me, foreign to Falkreath. In that moment, I very much understood why Dengeir hadn't come. A part of me also understood something he had told me long ago, when we first met along the banks of the icy shores of the Sea of Ghosts- '** _ **We Jarls are Kings in all but name... One day, I'd like to make it set in the stone of the Fatherland. We ought to govern ourselves, not have a King hundreds of miles away do it. We fought against the Empire for the same reason, why shouldn't we fight against Solitude as well?'**_

 **But I wasn't Dengeir. I couldn't toss aside tradition so easily. As much as I'd like to omit myself at that moment, to walk out and ride home, I forced myself to find my voice and cast my vote. "I nominate Jarl Dengeir Free-Winter, and cast my vote for him."**


	4. IV

_**I sincerely hope you're enjoying the story, dear reader!**_

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 **"Are you touched in the head, boy!?" Jarl Makin shouted from across the table from me, Jarl Arren Free of Dawnstar. I was shocked by Jarl Decimus' words, but by no means did I intend to insult him over it. I respected the older Imperial man too much to do that, and knew full well that he was also one of the most powerful Jarls in the Fatherland. Dawnstar had been decimated by the Solstheim War; it still was healing. In the wake of that conflict, Eastmarch, Whiterun, and Falkreath had emerged as the superpowers of the land, and while both the other Holds boasted much larger forces, Falkreath had a vast seam of wealth from its numerous land holdings gained during the war, as well as its lush forests. In fact, I'd wager that Falkreath was the wealthiest Hold in Skyrim, usurping Riften, Haafingar, and even Markarth in income, or so I would guess. The Holds and their Jarls were ever secretive of their coffers, save to the High King, but it was no small secret that trade was doing poorly across Skyrim and Tamriel, and the mines of Markarth grew ever less extravagant. Snowborn had never liked Decimus, and while I didn't know the reason for this hatred, I didn't care to find out. Jon was my best friend, but he could be as stubborn as he could be rude, and so, I often left him to own affairs, knowing that once he had formed his own opinion of someone, it was rarely changed.**

 **"Watch your tongue, Silver-Blood." Decimus said back, his voice calm even as his eyes shined bright with anger.**

 **"That coward didn't even come! If he'd rather bury his head in the snow, then he'll be no King of mine!" Jarl Makin growled, and I saw Decimus clench his teeth before Irgwyn spoke up.**

 **"Jarl Kinzelus has made his opinion known, and you shall respect it, my Jarl." Jarl Irgwyn's voice was calm, but bore steel beneath the words. I smiled at her tenacity, even as the half-drunk Jarl of Markarth responded.**

 **"Har! Does your woman fight your battles now, you little Imperial shit?" Jarl Makin's voice was gruff and hoarse and angry, as he stood up, his great form towering over all, being just a few inches shorter than the Eastmarch Jarl, who was still seated, along with everyone besides Decimus, who also rose.**

 **"You** _ **will**_ **watch your tongue, or I'll cut it out, and feed it to you, Makin." Decimus' voice was angry now, and I saw the challenge render in Makin's eyes.**

 **"I'd like to see you try, you milk-drinking son of a whore!" Makin's voice was practically a roar at this point, and Trevelyan began to speak before Decimus crossed the chambers, standing just a foot away from the taller Nord.**

 **"Care to reiterate that, Silver-Blood?" Makin's mouth opened, and I could almost hear the threat being formed in his breast, before the doors opened, and Legate Jory walked in, his bright half-helm being held underneath his arm.**

 **"Terribly sorry, my Jarls, but I thought it best to tell you... Jarl Dengeir is approaching the city. He has a small party with him, but it's definitely the Winterhold Jarl."**

 **"And so the plot thickens." I said aloud, before drinking from my wineskin.**

* * *

 **I, Jarl Irgwyn Black-Briar of Riften, watched as Jarl Dengeir of Winterhold strode into the Kingsmoot chambers, his usual, confident grin playing across his lips. He was a handsome man, probably the handsomest in the room, with dark blonde hair and grey eyes. But, unlike Decimus' grey iris', which looked like the sky during a storm, Dengeir's were so bright they appeared almost white, and his high cheekbones complimented them perfectly.**

 **"My Jarls!" He said loudly, bowing before us all. I saw a smile play across Decimus' lips from besides me.**

 **"We were told you weren't coming, Free-Winter." Snowborn said bitterly, and Dengeir didn't bother looking him in the eyes as he responded.**

 **"I wasn't." He sat down besides me, locking his gaze with mine as he quietly said "Milady." I smiled at my old friend, before Trevelyan spoke up.**

 **"What changed your mind?"**

 **"Nothing of your concern, my Jarl." Jarl Dengeir looked at Decimus and nodded to him, which Decimus returned. "Now, what did I miss?" He asked, and Jarl Irri responded.**

 **"You were nominated High King by Jarl Kinzelus." My friend, whom I had voted for as High Queen, said, and Dengeir's face lit up.**

 **"Oh, was I? Well I thank you my good man." He said to Decimus, who stifled a laugh at the Winterhold Jarl's nonchalance.**

 **"So was Snowborn, myself and Jarl Irri." Trevelyan said.**

 **"Well, I vote for myself. Does that decide anything?" Jarl Dengeir said from besides me, and Snowborn piped up, his scowled face glaring at the Winterhold Jarl.**

 **"It makes it a tie vote, in all ways."**

 **"Oh. Well that's not good." Dengeir said.**

 **"Agreed." Jarl Arren said.**

 **"Well, I'll tell you all right now why your votes are wasted on these others," Jarl Makin began, standing up once more. "Jarl Kyrtis Trevelyan the Second is a tried and tested battle commander. He led the northern assault on the isle of Solstheim during the war! And he saved the eastern passes from falling to the Dark Elves!" Jarl Makin's voice was a boom, but Jarl Snowborn's seemed to command much more respect as he responded.**

 **"Aye, I cannot deny any of that. But where he led the northern assault, I led the southern** _ **invasion**_ **of Solstheim. No one led more men into more battles during the war than me, and no one dealt more death to the Elves than I." He continued, his eyes burning with anger at the remembrance of the war. "And when we returned home, to find Skyrim on the brink of invasion from the Dark Elves, it was Trevelyan that protected Eastmarch from invasion from the durges, that is true, but he turned around after the war and offered them all a home, an asylum away from justice. The Dark Elves in Windhelm eat better than the orphans of the countryside, orphans who will never see their parents again, because they were killed by the same cravens who now live in Windhelm! That man," Snowborn pointed a finger at Trevelyan, "Cares more for the Dark Elves than he does for the Fatherland! He cares more the Dark Elves of Morrowind than he does for his own people!" Jarls Arren, Irri, and even Decimus applauded at that, and Trevelyan angrily rose, shouting back at Snowborn.**

 **"The Dark Elves of my Hold were persecuted before me! They are still people, Snowborn! They deserve the same rights as us!" He shouted, and I saw Irri process the words, understanding, although possibly not agreement, shining in her eyes.**

 **"You murdered your own father." Decimus said to Trevelyan, and Trevelyan's eyes shone brightly with fury.**

 **"He was a racist and a craven!"**

 **"And he was your father." Decimus said once more, before continuing, still seated. "I did not fight during the Solstheim War, my Jarls. My brother, Regillus, and my father, Marcius, led the armies of Falkreath north, and I acted as regent in their stead. I cannot say who was the better commander out of you two claimants, but I do not doubt that you both have earned your place in Sovngarde. But I cast my vote for Dengeir because he has done something** _ **none**_ **of us can lay claim to. He has turned what was once a pile of snow and stone into a thriving city. Winterhold was nothing in the days of the Dragonborn, and the failed Winterhold Rebellion only weakened it. The Northern Wolf did what he could, but he was a King, and he had only so much time he could devote to Winterhold. But when Dengeir became Jarl, he turned Winterhold around, truly and wholly. The coffers grow every day from the mines and docks, and the town grows even as we speak. And the College has never had more acolytes than it does now. Dengeir is a leader. More importantly, he is a leader** _ **worthy**_ **of leading. And if we must pick our new High King or Queen based on their virtue as a warrior, than Dengeir still is a worthy candidate. During the Solstheim War, it was Dengeir and his Winter Legion that lifted the siege of Dawnstar, which, had he not, would likely have ended the war in favor of the Dark Elves. And he personally led the Royal Navy against the Solstheim Flotilla outside of Eastmarch. He is a war hero just as worthy of praise as either of you two, my Jarls." Decimus finished his speech, earning a grateful nod from Dengeir, and Irri opened her mouth to speak. I expected her to defend her claim, but instead, she said something that very much shocked me.**

 **"I change my vote. I cast it in favor of Dengeir Free-Winter of Winterhold." Her voice rang out, and chills shot up and down my spine as I chorused her.**

 **"I change my vote in favor of Dengeir Free-Winter as well."**

 **"Then it's decided." Decimus said aloud, before Makin angrily growled, his voice like that of a bear.**

 **"No. It is not."**

* * *

 **"I will never bend the knee to that smug twat! Markarth will never bend the knee to him! My family will never bend the knee to him!" I, Jarl Arren, listened as Jarl Makin shouted, and Trevelyan rose besides him.**

 **"Nor will me or mine!" Trevelyan shouted, and I saw Snowborn think the same.**

 **"I am the Jarl of Whiterun, and Whiterun will never bend to Winterhold! Nor to Eastmarch!" Jarl Snowborn roared.**

 **"You'd defy the Kingsmoot!? You'd defy the laws of Talos himself!?" Decimus shouted, rising to his feet from besides me.**

 **"Aye. To the death, I'd fight for Whiterun against** _ **him,"**_ **Snowborn pointed to Dengeir, who was still seated, "And** _ **anyone**_ **who supports him!" Snowborn turned, and marched out, the door to the chambers flying open.**

 **"I bend the knee to King Kyrtis II of Clan Trevelyan, and none other." Jarl Makin growled, and with a nod from Trevelyan, the two began walking out, before Trevelyan stopped, and turned to us all.**

 **"Farewell my Jarls. I pray war does not end your lives, but if that is our fate, then I shall see you all in Sovngarde." With that, Trevelyan and his zealous supporter walked out.**

 **I sighed loudly, turning to Decimus.**

 **"What will you do?" He asked me.**

 **"I'm sorry, Decimus. But Snowborn is my friend, and in truth, he's always been my King, even in the days of Argyle. It grieves me to think we might meet as enemies, but it may be so." I stood, and was about to walk out after my King, but Decimus caught my hand, stopping me.**

 **"Farewell, Arren Free." He said simply, and I nodded at him.**

 **"And you, Decimus Kinzelus." With that, I left the chambers, catching up to King Jon I Snowborn, as he mounted his horse, his Whiterun Guardsmen close about him. I kneeled before him, and raised my head as I spoke. "My King."**

 **He smiled at me, his eyes warm, as I saw the darkening sky above him begin to rain once more. "You honor me with your loyalty, Arren."**

 **"To the death, your Grace." I responded, and he motioned for me to rise.**

 **"Get your riders and your mare, and prepare to ride hard and fast to Dawnstar. We must be quick about this. We have only days before the full might of the different Holds rise up to support whoever they've cast their lot with." He said, and I nodded at him, right as, from around the corner of the building where the Whiterun force had stabled, Jarl Makin and some fifteen mounted, armored Markarth Guardsmen rode out, astride their warhorses.**

 **"What a small pack of dogs. And without their leashes." He growled, his mighty claymore in hand.**

 **"Blood will be shed in the coming weeks, I assure you, my Jarl, but that can wait." I said, before he spat on the ground.**

 **"Denounce Snowborn now, Arren, and for the love I bore your father, I won't gut you." Makin growled, before my King, still astride his horse, drew his bastard longsword from it's sheathe.**

 **"Prepare to die, Silver-Blood!" He shouted, spurring his horse forward, towards the Markarth cavalry, his Whiterun Guardsmen right behind him. Before the tip of King Snowborn's sword was even in reach of Makin, the Silver-Blood Jarl's claymore bore into Snowborn's chest, throwing him off of his saddle. He was dead by the time his body hit the ground, and his Guardsmen were quickly met with a similar fate. Not knowing what to do, I covered my mouth, shock in my eyes, as I turned and ran to where I'd left my men.**

 **I needed to get out of Solitude. I needed to warn Whiterun and Dawnstar.**

 **I needed to get out of Solitude.**

* * *

 **I, Jarl Decimus Kinzelus, bowed to the new High King of Skyrim, Dengeir Free-Winter. Besides me, Jarls Irri and Irgwyn did the same, just as Legate Jory and four Royal Army officers did the same behind us. I heard Dengeir chuckle, and he bid us rise.**

 **"Well, this is not at all how I expected this day to go." He said, and I smiled.**

 **"I meant every word I said, my King. You're the leader I trust." I said, and he smiled, as we walked out of the Kingsmoot chambers.**

 **"I thank you, my friend, but I-"**

 **Suddenly, the King was interrupted by a frantic Royal Army soldier running up to us.**

 **"My Jarls! Legate Jory! Your Grace!" He shouted, panic in his voice.**

 **"What is it lad?" Legate Jory shouted from besides me, running up to the man.**

 **"It was the other Jarls, milord! Jarl Trevelyan and his men left the city after the moot, but Jarl Silver-Blood, he... Well he slaughtered the Whiterun men, milords! All of them, even Snowborn!"**

 **I held back a gasp, before asking him a question, questions shooting back and forth in my mind. "What of Jarl Arren and the Dawnstar men?"**

 **"They fled, milord! Jarl Silver-Blood escaped with his men as well, but it didn't seem that they were pursuing the Dawnstar force. They were making for the southern road to Markarth, and Jarl Arren was headed on the ghost road east to Dawnstar." The soldier said, catching his breath.**

 **"They're making to rally their forces." Legate Jory said from besides me.**

 **"War will come now, no matter what. Jarl Makin just carved that in stone with the blood of Snowborn." I said. Dengeir nodded.**

 **"How quickly can you rally Falkreath's forces?" He asked me. I answered almost immediately.**

 **"Right away. If I can get back to Falkreath in good time, I could have them back here by weeks end." I said.**

 **"And Morthal could be rallied in three days time." Irri said.**

 **"I can send a rider to Riften, instructing my sister to have the Riften flotilla sail up to lay siege to Windhelm. Eastmarch has more men-at-arms than Riften, but its fleet is nothing compared to ours." Irgwyn said, and Dengeir nodded his agreement.**

 **"I'll sail to Winterhold and rally my men from there. Together, we'll close shut the jaws around these rebels." Dengeir said, and I smiled at his plan.**

 **"But, your Grace, should you not stay here, and cement your throne?" One of the officers of the Royal Army behind Legate Jory asked.**

 **"I can only cement my throne if half the Fatherland isn't in open rebellion, lad. Legate Alecsxandr?" He asked of the young Nord besides me.**

 **"Yes, your Grace?" He said immediately.**

 **"You seem a bright young soldier. I want you to lead the First Battalion down the south road into Markarth, and take the city for the crown. The Second Battalion will set sail east after me to help me break Windhelm's forces while the Third stays here and defends Solitude. With any luck, this war will be over by the time I return." Dengeir said with a smile. His confidence radiated from him in droves, inspiring us all.**

 **But even with his charisma, I knew his wish was not to be. This war would drag on and on, well into and through the winter.**

 **And many and more would be the casualties.**


	5. V

_**If you're enjoying the story so far, feel free to drop a review.**_

* * *

 **Part Two**

 **The Black Storm**

* * *

 **Dengeir Free-Winter has been proclaimed High King of Skyrim, but by a narrow moot. Kyrtis Trevelyan II has been proclaimed as King of Eastmarch, with the backing of Markarth, and Jon Snowborn was proclaimed King as well- until he was butchered in the streets of Solitude by Jarl Makin of Markarth. With Whiterun now rudderless, and Dawnstar in danger of siege from either side, Jarl Arren rushes south-and-east to Dragonsreach to warn his friends son, just as the forces of the new High King rush to rally their forces in time for the coming War of the Holds. But as Skyrim threatens to tear itself apart, far to the south, forces greater than any of them watch and wait, eager to see what will befall the Fatherland.**

* * *

 **I, Jon II Snowborn, listened as Jarl Arren spoke before me, his clothes dirty, and his face covered in rain. Four Dawnstar riders stood behind him, all breathless and tired. "After your father left the chambers, I followed him. He was my King, and I vowed to follow him. But that cunt Trevelyan's dog, Makin, he attacked us there in the streets of Solitude. He killed your father, and butchered his men. I should've stood and fought to my death there, but I knew I needed to warn you. I'm sorry, Jon. I failed you. I failed your father. But I won't fail you again." Suddenly, he fell to one knee. "You are my King, now and always. You are the King of Dragonsreach. Dawnstar is with you, and Whiterun will back you until it withers in the wind, I know it."**

 **My breath caught in my throat. My father... His men... For a moment, I forgot what Arren had said, until suddenly sadness was replaced my anger.**

 **"I'll kill Makin for this. And Trevelyan too. Whiterun won't bend to Eastmarch. Not now, or ever, as long as I live." My Housecarl Addie, a beautiful young Imperial woman, smiled at me, her right hand on the hilt of her sword.**

 **"What are your orders, my King?" She asked.**

 **"Send a rider north to Dawnstar. Tell them what's happened. Jarl Arren, I beg you and your men rest here." Arren nodded gratefully at me. "And Addie?" I began.**

 **"Yes, my King?" She asked.**

 **"Ready the men. Send out word to all corners of Whiterun. War is coming. I'll burn Eastmarch to the ground if that's what it takes."**

 **She nodded at me, a lust for vengeance burning brightly in her hazel eyes.**

* * *

 **I, Jarl Decimus Kinzelus, rode into Falkreath, my three Guardsmen behind me. The sun was angrily burning through the thick fog, and the trees were alive with the chorus of birds singing to one another, just as the scent of the deep forest filled the air. Mira Stormbreaker, my Thane, ran up to me, excitement in her eyes.**

 **"Decimus! We weren't expecting you back so soon!" She said, standing before me as I dismounted my horse, my legs aching from the hard riding.**

 **"We didn't expect to be here so soon either." I breathed out, the morning air crisp and cool.**

 **"What happened?" She asked, her excitement ebbing, seeing something was wrong.**

 **"Jon I Snowborn is dead." I said, walking past her.**

 **"What?" She blurted out, catching up besides me.**

 **"Dengeir Free-Winter was elected High King. Snowborn and Makin and Arren and Trevelyan all disliked that idea. Quite a bit." I bit out, anger filling my chest at the memory of the four Jarls. "Arren supported Snowborn, just as Makin supported Trevelyan. Makin butchered Snowborn and his men in the streets like dogs."**

 **"So whose the King?" Mira asked after a moment, and I stopped in my tracks, looking at her.**

 **"Frankly, my dear sweet Mira, I don't know. Dengeir is who I support; but it would seem their are many contenders at the moment." I said simply, wheeling about on my heel back away from her. I strode into the Jarl's Longhouse of Falkreath, where I saw Jürgen, my trusted Housecarl.**

 **"My Jarl!" He shouted. I quickly told him what I'd told Mira, and before I even had to ask, he responded to what he knew I'd ask of him. "I'll ready the men, milord. The full force will be ready to march by first light tomorrow." The large bear of a Nord said, and I quickly responded.**

 **"Make it sooner." He lips played out into a half-cocked grin, and he nodded, before walking out, just as Burren entered, nodding to Mira before looking at me.**

 **"We ought to take this opportunity to strike at Whiterun, my Jarl. Riverwood is ripe for the taking, and if we seize, it, we'll have a perfect staging area for a siege of the southern countryside of all of Whiterun Hold." Burren's gruff voice said to me, and I nodded at his logic.**

 **"You're right in your thinking, Burren, but I won't risk making war on Whiterun just yet. With Jon dead, there is a chance the Hold will bow to Dengeir now. I won't risk making another enemy when there is a chance for peace. Mira?" I said, turning to my Thane. She nodded at me, before I continued. "I want you to ride to Dragonsreach. Tell him neither I, nor King Dengeir, wish for war against Whiterun, and that if they agree to submit to Solitude, together we can help him achieve his vengeance."**

 **She nodded at me, before speaking. "At once, Decimus." She turned and walked out the door, before Burren stepped closer to me.**

 **"Do you think Jon's pup will kneel, my Jarl?" The gruff, older Nord said to me.**

 **"I doubt it. He's got a fine claim, and a large force. And if he's anything like his father, he'll take advantage of both." I said, my eyes boring into the heart of the hearth before me. Burren grunted and nodded slowly, looking at the hearth as well. The flames flicked and hissed, just as the coals beneath them popped and cracked.**

 **"I've rode to war with three generations of Kinzelus', my Jarl." Burren suddenly said, and I looked up to him. He was still staring into the flames. "First it were your grandfather Draco. Draco was a fine rider, and a better archer than I could ever be, nearly better than even Mira. Together we fought against Hammerfell during the Summersun War. I was still just a young lad then, hardly old enough to even be considered a man. But I was already a fine fighter. I killed my first man then, in the blistering heat of the Alik'r Desert. Bashed his head in with a rock after he knocked my sword out of my hand. Nearing two years later, the war ended, and we returned home victorious. Then, years later, after Jarl Draco had died, I fought with your father and brother during the Solstheim War. Gods, your brother was a fine sailor." Burren said, his voice low.**

 **"My brother was fine at everything he did." I said simply, and he nodded, laughing heartily.**

 **"Aye, my Jarl, no combating that. After the Dark Elves finally surrendered, your father and brother and me came back home, only for you and me and Regillus to ride out once more two years later against the Red Bandit Rebellion. That was your first time killing a man, eh?" He asked, and I nodded.**

 **"A spear through the stomach. Some Breton with a wild look in his eye and three missing teeth." I said, thinking of the first time I fought and killed a man.**

 **"And now, here we are, preparing to march once more. You Kinzelus' are a bloody folk, you know that?" He asked, a grin on his lips.**

 **I smiled at him. "So I've been told."**

 **A few hours later, I was in the armory of Falkreath, sharpening my sword. Behind me, I heard someone approaching. I turned and found Jürgen walking into the threshold of the room, donned in steel armor from heel to helm. "My Jarl." He boomed.**

 **"Jürgen," I said, nodding at him. "How comes the men?" I asked. He smiled at my question, approaching me.**

 **"Good, milord. We'll be ready to march at full force in less than a few hours. Your father was wise to improve the roads across Falkreath; we can rally our forces faster than any other Hold, and march off before they are even at half strength." He smiled at his force's speed.**

 **"Well done, my friend." I nodded at him, and my Housecarl exited the armory.**

 **The sword I held was an old one, from the days of the Northern Wolf. My great-great-grandfather, Dominus Kinzelus, was the son of an Imperial Legate who had fought against the Stormcloak Rebellion. After wars' end, he settled in Falkreath, and years later, his second-born son Dominus rode off to war alongside Brunwulf, fighting for Skyrim's independence. After Brunwulf was made High King, and the Empire pushed out of the Fatherland, Dominus was made the Jarl of Falkreath, and gifted the Ancient Nordic Sword in my hand,** _ **Outcaster.**_ **I smiled, thinking of the stories this blade could tell. It had been used by every Kinzelus Jarl since Dominus, and after my father fell deathly ill, it was passed unto me at my coronation. I had yet to use it in real battle. My smile fell as I realized that would soon no longer be the case.**

 **I wasn't a warmonger. I didn't lust for battle. But, I was man of stronger convictions than most. If war was coming to the Fatherland, as Jarl of Falkreath it was my duty to fight it. And fight it I would.**

* * *

 **I, Mira Stormbreaker, rode up to the gates of Whiterun. Four heavily armored guards stopped me, their faces covered by their helms.**

 **"Halt!" The lead shouted, his voice stern. "What is your business here?"**

 **"I am Mira Stormbreaker, Thane to Jarl Decimus Kinzelus of Falkreath. I'm here to speak with Jarl Jon II Snowborn." I said, the stars overhead, along with the full moon, providing more than enough light for me to see, as well a the many, many torches and sconces that lit the perimeter of the road up to the battlements of the walled city. It seemed that Whiterun was on high alert. I didn't blame them.**

 **"It's King Jon II Snowborn, my Thane." The lead corrected me. "But you may enter." He said, before turning to two of the other guards. "Open the gate." He ordered. "We'll take your horse down to the stables, milady." I was nervous about leaving my horse, wishing to be able to make a quick escape should negotiations fail, but obeyed the guard's instructions.**

 **I quickly made my way up to Dragonsreach, noting the hundreds of candles, hearths, torches and sconces lit across the city, as well as how many guards walked about the streets. The people all seemed sullen and sorrowful; I had heard that Jon I was loved by his people, and here was my proof. Grief hung heavily over the city.**

 **The doors to Dragonsreach opened, and I approached the mighty throne behind the great hearth, which burned heartily, its flames warming the whole hall. Once more, I noted the many guards, all ready to draw their swords at a moment's notice. I kept a hand resting on the hilt of the short sword at my hip, and at the top of the steps, I locked eyes with the young man seated on the throne across the hearth from me. He was a very handsome lad; much handsomer than his father, with short, well groomed black hair, a hard jaw line, and two brown iris' that locked with mine. He was wearing a tight black leather jerkin, with a steel breastplate over it, and leather riding leggings covered his legs. A pair of boiled black leather riding boots adorned his feet, and with one hand he gripped the armrest of his throne, and in the other, he held the hilt of a silver sword.**

 **"Milady." He said after several silent moments. His voice was deeper than I expected, but still lighter than Decimus or his guardsmen outside's was.**

 **"King Snowborn, I presume?" I asked. A very pretty, very fierce looking Imperial woman spoke from besides him, her chin tipped up as she looked at me.**

 **"This is Jon II Snowborn, the King of the Dragon. He took the crown after his father was murdered in Solitude." She said, her hand gripping the hilt of the sword at her hip so tightly her knuckles turned white.**

 **"It is my pleasure to meet you, your Grace. I was sorry to hear of your father. I didn't know him well, but he struck me as a good man." I said, and Snowborn spoke aloud.**

 **"He was the best man I ever met. And he was butchered like a dog in the street." His jaw clenched tightly, and his eyes bore into mine. Absentmindedly, he reminded me of Decimus.**

 **"My Jarl, Decimus of Clan Kinzelus, understands your thirst for vengeance. He thinks you are more than right for wanting the head of Jarl Makin-"**

 **"The traitor and coward, Makin." The Imperial woman hissed, and I continued.**

 **"My Jarl does not wish for war between our two peoples. He only wants peace for Skyrim, and he wants to help you in your quest for revenge." I said, and I saw Snowborn's brow raise up slightly.**

 **"What are his terms?" He asked.** _ **Smart lad,**_ **I thought,** _ **He knows nothing is ever free.**_

 **"Bend the knee to High King Dengeir. Tell your bannermen to bend the knee. You'll keep all the lands, holdings, and titles belonging to your father, as is your right, and your man Arren will continue as Jarl of Dawnstar. And together, Whiterun, Dawnstar, and Falkreath will fight with the Rift and Hjaalmarch and Winterhold against those who've wronged you." I said.**

 **The young King of the Dragon looked at me for a long time. Minutes passed. Maybe five. Maybe ten. Then, his mouth opened, and his deep voice rang out into the wide hall. "I'll have my vengeance, without bending the knee to a man I've never met. You're Jarls terms are fair, and I hope we can continue without war, but Whiterun and Dawnstar are a free and independent people. I'm sorry to waste your time, milady. But I won't bend the knee to Free-Winter." He rose to his feet, and stood proudly, sword in hand and courage burning in his eyes, "Tell Jarl Kinzelus these terms of my own. If the forces of Falkreath and its King Dengeir respect the sovereignty of my kingdom, I'll return the favor. I'll raze Windhelm and Markarth to the ground, but the lands of Eastmarch and Markarth Hold can remain the dominion of the Solitude crown. But if Dengeir and his bannermen try and force their rule over me and mine, I'll put Solitude to the torch. And neither Sovngarde nor Oblivion could save Dengeir from my wrath." The King of the Dragon finished his speech as his men looked on with zeal and loyalty in their eyes, and, not knowing what to say, I simply bowed.**

 **"I'll deliver the message, your Grace." After I said that, I turned and walked out the doors of Dragonsreach, eager to make my way back to Falkreath.**

* * *

 **"You can hardly blame the boy," Burren sighed out from besides me, Jarl Decimus of Falkreath, after Mira finished recounting her meeting with the young King of Dragonsreach. "He's got a large army, the vastest Hold in Skyrim, and a fortress that has never fallen to siege."**

 **"And his father was just murdered." I said, and Burren grunted.**

 **"Aye, that probably changes things as well." Burren said.**

 **"Were I him," I began, "I wouldn't do anything different than he has. He doesn't know enough to be afraid. His father was just murdered by a craven from a land so foreign to Whiterun it may as well be another kingdom. He's got thousands of loyal men-at-arms backing him. And he's never even met Dengeir. Why would he even consider bending the knee?" I asked rhetorically. I meant what I said, and agreed with Burren. There wasn't any good reason to blame the lad for thinking himself a king.**

 **"I wouldn't trifle with him lightly, Decimus. He's young, but his men don't lack for loyalty, nor does he lack for fury. And if any of what I know about his father is true, I'd wager he's been trained in matters of war and battle since he was old enough to hold a sword." Mira said, and Jürgen nodded his head besides me. We stood inside the Jarl's Longhouse of Falkreath, around a map of Skyrim, with different markers indicating the position, or at least believed position, of the different armies of the Fatherland. It was early morning, and most my army was north, nearing the border of Falkreath and Whiterun. I had decided to stay behind with Burren and Jürgen, to await Mira's return.**

 **"We should let Dengeir decide what's to be done with Whiterun and Snowborn. For now, I won't do anything that may start a war between our two Hold-" I was suddenly cut off by a frantic guardsmen, who had come bursting into the Longhouse.**

 **"My Jarl!" He shouted. "An army of the Rift is nearing!"**

 **"Jarl Irgwyn is our ally, boy." Burren hissed out at him, angry at the boys interruption. "The army is likely here to join us in storming Markarth."**

 **"No, milords! It's marching directly for us, without Jarl Irgwyn. She's still in the capital, and her sister sent a letter to all the Holds, declaring Trevelyan the one true King!" The guardsmen shouted, and Mira cursed from behind me.**

 **"All the men are north, milord!" The guardsmen said, looking at me. "And the Rift force has already passed Helgen. They haven't stopped to raid or lay siege; they're marching directly here!"**

 **"Burren, rally what men you can and meet me at the gates. Jürgen! I want you to ride as fast and hard as you can to the men north, and get them here,** _ **now."**_

 _ **"**_ **Yes my Jarl!" My Housecarl said as he and Burren hastily exited the Longhouse along with the guardsmen who'd warned us.**

 **"What would you have me do, Decimus?" Mira asked. I looked at her, before sighing.**

 **"Go get yourself armored up. This isn't going to be easy." I said.**

 **"It never is." She said with a kind smile, before leaving.**

 **I stood there, my eyes boring into the fire.**

 **And that is when an idea struck me.**

 **"Burren!" I hollered as I ran outside the Longhouse, "Get me as much oil and wax as you can!"**


End file.
